The Man from Riverside
by hlifehotdog
Summary: The Man from Riverside - Left 4 Dead Fan Fiction My story that has been in the works for a while now. Has tie ins with the original - L4D game. Contains horror, violence, mild course language, sexual references.
1. Chapter 1

The Man from Riverside - Chapter 1

The radio crackled and lurched in and out of reception, playing a very broken version of a Nickelback song. Dennis couldn't actually work out which one it was, since, to him, they often all sound the same, so he turned off the radio in frustration. He looked out the driver's window, just making out tall trees and hills in the dim moonlight. He hadn't had decent radio reception since he passed the last town, much to his dismay it was the only thing keeping him from the insanity that comes with being lost. He was supposed to be on his way to California for a business meeting with some prospective clients.

Dennis sold office supplies. Not the greatest occupation, but it got him by, even though he despised it, but he had a wife and three kids so 'Whatever pays the bills' was his catchphrase. Business had been slow lately with the recession; people were opting for the cheaper discount office suppliers, keeping his quality office supplies in the warehouse. He hated that he had to drive further and further away from home to try and sell his business, but driving and sleeping on the back seat was still cheaper for him than flying and having to stay in a hotel.

The car lurched, the old suspension trying to compensate for the impact of a pothole and snapping Dennis to attention. He grimaced slightly as he tried to inspect the road as best he could under the light of his dirty headlights. With the moonlight's help he managed discern that the road was in significant disrepair, obviously receiving little traffic. He was beginning to regret his decision to leave the highway.

"Shit!"

Dennis muttered a little too loudly, as he narrowly avoided a massive pothole. Damn CEDA, he thought. If it wasn't for their checkpoint holding up masses of traffic, he would be almost there by now. He didn't understand what the big deal about this flu was. What was it, some sort of bird flu or something? He'd heard scraps about it on the radio, mostly garble, but he didn't really care. His other radio choices were classical music or some local twat raving on about the end of the world; neither got more than a minute of listening time. He slowed down his car, doing his best to avoid the increasing number of potholes, the suspension grinding and making discomforting noises.

He continued on, the tall trees and the passing clouds blocking out the moonlight made the road very dark. Dennis remained focused and concentrated on navigating the road, not letting his mind wander to other things. He took a quick glimpse at his fuel gauge, reading half a tank, and looked down at the map lying on the passenger seat. The road was only supposed to be sixty miles until it hit a town called Riverside, it felt longer. He'd never heard of Riverside, but it seemed like a sizable town. He'd stop there, get some sleep and maybe even sell some office supplies while he was there before continuing around the mountain and hopefully back onto the highway, well past the CEDA checkpoints.

Dennis realized his mind was trailing and snapped back to attention when the car jumped over a smaller pothole. Rounding a particularly sharp bend, he noticed a large blue 4x4 on the side of the road, half embedded in a tree. Dennis slowed down to check it out, but it had obviously been there a while and there didn't seem to be anyone inside. There did seem to be a lot of blood, but he continued without stopping. Serves them right for speeding, he thought. The number of times he'd been run off the road by a speeding idiot, it was nice to see them suffer, but the sight of blood took his feeling of victory away.

Dennis grimaced at the increasingly disturbing noise that the suspension was making every time he hit even the smallest bump. His little red sedan had seen better days, but it had kept him on the road for the last few years. There was a nice Lexus he was hoping to buy, if sales were good this year, and then he could pass this sedan to his son in a few years. He smirked when he thought about his oldest son, Pete, getting the keys for his 18th birthday. His trail of thought was brutally interrupted by a thudding on the boot of his car. At first, he thought one of his boxes of supplies had just toppled from the bumpy road, but another thump gave Dennis reason to check his rear mirror. Glancing at his mirror without taking his eyes off the road, he noticed something moving behind him outside his car.

"What the hell?"

Dennis took the chance and looked over his shoulder out the back window and saw a man chasing him. He seemed to be wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans, like a hitchhiker or even a lumberjack. He sped up the car a bit; Dennis thought he must be a marathon runner or something because he somehow managed to keep up with him. Dennis wound down the window and put his head out,

"Fuck off you lunatic!"

The man responded with several more thuds on the boot of the car, which only served to piss Dennis off more. After another minute of constant thudding, Dennis snapped.

"Fuck this,"

He slammed on the breaks and the car halted immediately, with no screech of the tires, and one larger impact came from the rear of the car and the man behind him disappeared from sight. Dennis sat for a moment, considering getting out and checking on him, but desperately wishing he wouldn't. Cursing to himself, he flung the door open and got out of the car. He stood for a moment, stretching his legs, the cool autumn breeze blowing through his thick black hair; he'd forgotten how long he had been in that car today. Suddenly, the cold got to him and he pulled his black suit jacket tighter around him and his thoughts went back to the man behind his car. He slowly trudged around to the back of the car and looked down at the man who was now half under his car, he appeared unconscious.

"Hey, you alright there you fucking moron?" There was no response.

"You better not be fucking dead,"

Dennis gave the body a quick nudge with his foot, not wanting to touch it; the man seemed to have hygiene issues. His eyes snapped open, startling Dennis who took a half step back.

"Fuck, are you alright?"

The man's eyes looked very wrong, like they were empty. The man let out an inhuman scream and began to thrash, trying to get out from under the car. Dennis felt very uneasy, there was something seriously wrong with him and Dennis knew it. He left the man trying to scramble out from under the car and ran back to the open driver's door and leaned though to the passenger's side. He snapped open the glove box and shifted some scrap paper and CDs around to find a black Beretta sitting at the bottom. He grabbed it and pushed himself out of the car, aiming it towards the man who was dragging himself up from behind the car.

"You fucking stay right there!"

Completely ignoring him, the man roared loudly and bolted straight for Dennis. Feeling paralysed, Dennis pulled the trigger, only to hear the click of the safety switch denying him to fire. Cursing loudly, he looked down and fiddled with the safety switch, desperately turning and raising the gun back at the man, but it was too late. The man leapt at Dennis and tackled to him to the ground, knocking him back and sending the gun flying. The man continued to barrel over from the speed of his tackle and was left face down on the road mere feet away from the stunned Dennis lying on his back. He laid there, his head throbbing from hitting the asphalt staring at the stars as they danced around the sky. He twisted his head and looked towards the other man, who seemed to have taken a serious blow from the fall. Dennis could see him slowly getting to his feet, his left arm hanging loosely from his body, possibly dislocated. Dennis rolled over onto his stomach and got onto his knees; his head throbbing from the movement, he clutched it in pain with one hand while he leant on his open car door for support. Dragging himself to his feet, he groaned as the pain eased and Dennis looked at his hand, partially covered with blood. He looked up just in time to see the man finally get to his feet and turn sharply at Dennis, who saw just how serious his fall was. The man's face was brutally smashed in, his nose bent and twisted beyond recognition and his face covered with bleeding grazes filled with dirt and gravel. His empty eyes glared at Dennis for a moment, his face making him look completely inhuman. With a scream, he ran at Dennis again, but this time Dennis was prepared. Despite still being groggy for his injuries, Dennis leant harder against the car door, causing it to close and dragging him with it, dodging the man as he staggered past, trying to stop his momentum so he could turn around. Dennis took this opportunity to make for the gun, which was lying conveniently on the front hood of the car. As he reached for it, he stumbled, knocking the weapon off the hood and onto the ground in front of the car. Dennis staggered and fell next to it, reaching over and grabbing it before rolling onto his back to aim at the crazed man. He fired off a single shot which caught the man in his other good arm, sending him staggering backwards. He stood there, staring at his limp arms, then back at Dennis, still aiming the smoking weapon.

"Just die you son-of-a-bitch"

This time, the bullet hit with perfect accuracy as his neck snapped backwards from the force smashing into his skull. He staggered backwards a few steps before his legs gave out and he flopped to the floor, a large pool of blood beginning to flow in channels through the cracks in the asphalt. Dennis fell back and stared at the stars again, feeling the rush of adrenalin wear off, leaving him feeling cold and tired, not to mention the throbbing head pain. After a minute, he dragged himself to his feet and looked at his dried head blood on his hand. He felt the wound again and flinched in pain on contact, he could still feel the warmth of blood seeping from it, though it didn't seem to be so much. Dennis dragged himself to his feet and leant against the side of the car, looking over at the lifeless body and feeling a surge of panic. He'd just killed someone! It was self-defence, he reasoned with himself, just turn myself in and explain what happened.

"Ah, fuck!"

As if they'll believe me, he thought. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a while, trying to decide wether to call the police or not. The cell phone made the decision for him; no reception. He put the phone back in his pocket in frustration, and got into the driver's seat, throwing the gun onto the passenger seat. He placed his head against the steering wheel, and then proceeded to knock his head against the horn, the sound blaring out loudly.

"Screw it," Dennis looked at the body on the road in his side mirror, "I'm sorry, but you caused this. I'm not gonna fucking go to prison because of you"

He slammed the car into gear, and the car took off with a lurch, the suspension groaning as the car gained speed rapidly. The light from tail lights slowly faded, leaving the man's body in the darkness. His cold, expressionless eyes staring into nothing as he lay there, in a slowly enlarging pool of blood. A raven swooped in from a nearby tree, landing nearby and cautiously hopped towards the body. It began pecking cautiously at his head, satisfied he was dead, it began to tear at his flesh, enjoying a late night meal. The distant sound of heavy boots startled the creature; it cried angrily and flew into the nearest tree. A figure approached the body, an axe making a heavy grinding noise as it was dragged along behind. Stopping just short of the pool of blood and taking one last puff of a cigarette, they threw the still lit butt onto the body and took hold of the axe with both hands. Raising the axe and without a moment's hesitation, bringing it down on the man's neck, slicing clean through and sending the head rolling into the ditch. The figure rested the axe on the ground again, and turned to continue along the road in the direction Dennis went, the axe grinding along the road as they went.

Not long later, the raven returned, continuing its meal on the headless corpse; the head watching it silently from the ditch.

Deep within the forest, the sound of a blaring horn echoed, piercing every nook and cranny with its angry reverb. Something began to stir, hidden by the deep shadows of the towering trees. Something human in origin, but with an overwhelming aura of evil and anger. Something that did not want to be disturbed.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Man from Riverside - Chapter 2**

The still smoking gun bounced around on the passenger seat. The black Beretta 92 DS had never actually been used until tonight. Dennis got it about four years ago when he heard of people getting run off the road and mugged. They ended up catching the man and woman, stuck in a state prison for 12 years, but Dennis kept the weapon, you just never know.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Dennis was getting more and more frustrated and confused. The whole event was on loop in his head, the lines between truth and imagination beginning to blur until he could no longer be certain of himself. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as the car careened down the road, the suspension groaning angrily at the rough road, begging for respite from the potholes.

"Fuck!"

The car swerved violently at speed to avoid another car more or less flung to the side of the road, sitting in the ditch. Hitting the soft edge of the road, Dennis struggled to regain control, but pulled it back on the road before the deep drainage ditch could suck the little car in. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and slowed the car down. He was getting desperate and the last thing he wanted to do now was crash.

At least 20 minutes passed, and the road never seemed to end. Dennis figured he must have travelled at least 60 miles now, but that wasn't what worried him. The number of abandoned and crashed cars made the drive very foreboding. Eventually, with the sight of the glow of streetlights behind the trees, Dennis began to relax, feeling the stress wash away in the warm glow of artificial lighting.

Slowly, the glow from the town grew larger, but the road became less and less visible. The town was covered in a thick fog, limiting vision to only about 150ft, but causing the glow from the streetlights to bloom magnificently. Dennis slowed the car as he got closer, he could make out a figure waving in the middle of the road. He slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road behind a large brown pickup truck. He sat there for moment, staring blankly out the window at the man who was now walking towards him. He reached over and grabbed the gun off the seat and put it inside his jacket, safe from view. Dennis switched off the engine and got out of the car. He shuddered; the air was much cooler now and Dennis regretted not bringing a bigger jacket.

"Hey there!" The man shouted as he jogged towards Dennis "Hold up a sec,"

Dennis watched as the ragged man ran towards him, long grey beard blowing in the wind. Dennis smirked; just what he needed, a regular hillbilly.

"What's going on?" Dennis asked the man casually.

"You can't…" he paused for a moment to catch his breath. "You can't enter town, the cops have closed it down,"

Dennis was confused, "What for?"

"Because of the whole zombie flu thing. Haven't you heard?"

"What the hell are you taking about?" Dennis started getting annoyed, "Don't be fucking stupid"

"No, seriously man, this flu, it's like, zombie apocalypse. It's in all the major cities, CEDA completely closed them off; it's all over the news"

"Bullshit!"

"No man!" The man looked down at the ground nervously, "I… I saw some of them on the way here. I live way to the west, about 80 miles. They were just, like, wandering around like they dunno what to do. Some of them even chased my pickup for a while, I lost them eventually."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Look, I don't care if everyone is fucking dressing up as clowns, I'm tired, and I want to find a place to sleep, so get out of the way"

"Hey! No, you can't!"

Dennis shoved the man aside and stormed towards town, the man could barely keep up as he followed behind him.

"Come on man, they'll shoot you!" Dennis ignored his pleading.

As he got closer to the entrance of town, the sudden glare of high beam headlights blinded him, causing him to stagger backwards in surprise. A booming male voice sounded through a megaphone.

"Hey! You there! Riverside is closed; go back the way you came!"

Dennis regained his composure and continued to storm towards the glaring headlights.

"I'm ordering you to stop! I've got orders to shoot on sight!" The voice began to sound desperate, which only gave Dennis more confidence. The man following Dennis continued to plead with him.

"You're gonna get yourself killed man, just leave it"

A gunshot rang out, echoing through the hazy mist, the impact kicking up a cloud of asphalt and dirt not more than a few feet from Dennis. He was a little surprised, but did little more than flinch. The man following him was not so composed.

"Fuck! You're on your own man, I'm not getting myself killed," He took off back towards his pickup truck.

Dennis heard the slam of a car door behind him, but continued onwards. He was nearly at the vehicle and could hear a commotion ahead, but was still blinded by the headlights. As he rounded the car, he could make out the local sheriff's deputy car, and so he assumed the officer inside was at least a deputy, if not just a rookie. Dennis walked around to the driver's side of the patrol car and saw the officer fumbling with the radio, which seemed to have been knocked to the floor somewhere.

"Hi," Dennis greeted the officer casually.

The officer turned to face Dennis and stood up from the car, revolver pointed straight at Dennis. Dennis put his hands up and looked the man up and down, noticing the name Coleman embroidered on his uniform. He appeared very nervous, the gun shaking in his hands. Dennis smirked, as green as they come.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not here to hurt anyone; I just want a place to stay for a while. Ok?" Dennis said, trying to seem friendly.

"Just stay there, I'm going to call the sheriff," He sat back in the patrol car, still aiming the weapon at Dennis, and trying to find the radio on the floor. "And keep your hands up,"

Dennis tried to look tense, but he was too tired to really bother. Just trying to keep his hands held up was exhausting. He sighed as he watched the officer fumble around in the car, wishing he would just arrest him or something, at least then he could sit in the car. There was noise coming from the parked cars and Dennis turned to look, but the fog was too thick, the vehicles were completely concealed.

The sound of a shotgun blast caught both the men's attention. Dennis lowered his hands slightly and the officer scrambled out of the car, still pointing his weapon at Dennis. Dennis considered reaching for his weapon, but decided against it for now.

"What's going on over there?" Shouted the officer through the fog.

The only reply he got was another shotgun blast followed by an inhuman scream. This was enough to make the officer aim his weapon into the fog, Dennis decided it might be time to also arm himself, not that he believed what he was thinking, but it was instinct. The officer caught glance of Dennis pulling the gun out of his jacket pocket and seemed surprised at the sudden appearance of the weapon, but another shotgun blast echoed through the fog, snagging the young officer's attention once again. Through the fog, both men could make out the shape of a figure running towards them, carrying something. It turned around and the sound of another shotgun blast rang out, before it began running towards the two men again.

"Help me!" shouted the figure, which Dennis instantly recognised as the man he met earlier.

Suddenly, several more shapes appeared in the fog, running at the man who fired another shotgun round into the crowd. At least two of the figures flew backwards from the blast, and lay motionless on the floor, but the rest of the crowd continued to rush at the man who was still a good 600 feet away. Dennis raised his weapon and fired two rounds into the crowd, both hitting separate marks. The officer hesitated, beginning to panic.

"Just shoot them!" cried Dennis

With that, the officer fired three shots, only hitting a single woman who fell to the ground violently. Dennis continued to fire, hitting at least three more. The man turned to aim his shotgun when he tripped in a pothole and flew to the ground backwards, shotgun going off as he fell, catching one man in the head and sending him bowling backwards into the crowd. Dennis watched helplessly as the crowd rapidly gained on the fallen man, who was struggling to get to his feet. He fired several more rounds into the crowd until his gun went empty. The officer also fired another two shots before his gun was dry, then diving into the patrol car and pulled a box of rounds out of the glove box, throwing them all over the seat, bullets scattering in all directions. Dennis watched Coleman fumble with the bullets, trying to reload his revolver, while Dennis just watched hopelessly, with no ammo or any clips around. He noticed the officer's police baton attached to his belt and reached over to grab it, startling the officer and causing him to drop the bullet he was loading. The now smaller crowd of people had caught up with the fallen man, he tried to fight them off with his shotgun, but there were too many. They swarmed all over him like ants on food, he disappeared from sight, screaming as they attacked; punching, kicking and biting him. The young officer stood up and fired his newly reloaded weapon, discharging all six rounds and hitting nearly that many. This caught the attention of what was left of the crowd, just two men. They snarled and began to rush at Dennis and the officer, who hurriedly began reloading his revolver again. Dennis prepared himself, raising the baton ready to strike. One of the crazed men was limping from a bullet wound in the thigh, the other one, however, was gaining on Dennis fast. As he approached, Dennis brought the baton down on his head, hard. With the sound of cracking skull, the man flew to the side from the force of Dennis' swing and smashed into the side of the patrol car. The other man was almost at Dennis, but Dennis was bent over, breathless, trying to recover from the strength he put into the first blow. He looked up at the man, his grey face covered in blood, a disturbing contrast; he tried to right himself to take another swing with the baton, but with the booming sound of the officer's revolver, the man flew backwards from a bullet through the throat. Dennis took a step back to avoid the blood spraying from the body, which now lay limp on the floor. Dennis looked over at the officer, raised revolver still pointed at the body, steam billowing from the hot barrel in the cold mist. A scuffling noise could be heard from near where the beared man lay motionless and the officer pointed his gun towards the sound. From out of the mist, a woman could be seen dragging herself along the ground, her legs badly injured from gunshot wounds. She clawed at the ground like an animal, dragging herself towards Dennis; screaming in pain and anger that sent chills down Dennis' spine. The officer aimed his weapon carefully and fired, hitting the woman in the side of the head and her face fell limp to the floor.

Dennis and Coleman stood there quietly, Dennis hunched over, still trying to catch his breath, the blood stained baton still in hand. The officer pondered what had happened for a while, before turning to Dennis and holding out his hand for a handshake. Still hunched over, Dennis looked at him and stiffly stood up, arching his back to stretch. He reached over and shook the man's hand.

"I'm Tim, Tim Coleman"

"Dennis Rary"


	3. Chapter 3

**The Man from Riverside - Chapter 3**

Dennis and Officer Coleman stood by the side of the patrol car for some time, absorbing recent events and trying to catch their breath. Dennis looked at Tim hesitantly.

"You wouldn't have any rounds for this would you?" He asked, holding up his empty gun.

"Beretta? No, not with me. I only got a box of revolver rounds and a handful of shotgun shells," he looked into the back of the car, "But no shotgun; don't know where it's gone."

Dennis nodded and the two men silently stood by the car, breathing the cold, moist air that smelled of algae and burnt gunpowder. Both men were startled by the sudden crackling of the CB radio in the car and the soothing female voice that followed.

"Officer Coleman? Come in. Gunfire was heard in your vicinity, please report. Over."

The young officer sighed and scratched at his head, messing up his blonde hair. He hesitantly sat inside the car and began looking for the radio again. Dennis looked at the bloodied police baton still in his hand and tossed it to the ground. He looked around, the fog had thinned a bit and the brown pickup truck was just visible down the road. Leaving the officer to fumbling through his car, Dennis trudged towards his little sedan, tucking his Beretta into his belt, clearly visible but easier to get to. As he got closer to the pickup, he could see the passenger door had been left open and the front windscreen was shattered, probably shot through during the attack.

Dennis couldn't help but think about what had happened. Were they really zombies? Zombies like in the movies? They really didn't look dead, kinda pale, but not dead, they also ran, zombies don't run and you didn't have to shoot them in the head to kill them either. He recalled all those zombie games he'd seen his son playing, overly violent but he didn't care, his wife had a different opinion though. Though, all those games seemed a little to real now; he decided to keep an eye on the corpses just in case they started moving again.

He approached the pickup and looked inside. It was old, but kept quite clean. He opened the driver's door and got in, looking through the car for anything interesting or useful. He didn't know why he was doing this exactly, but to be honest, he didn't really want to do nothing either. He rifled through the glove box but found nothing more than old cassettes and a small knife. He looked behind the seats and found some rope, blankets and a cardboard box. He pulled out the box and opened it; finding at least a dozen shotgun shells inside. He emptied the contents into his jacket pockets and got out of the pickup, shutting the door behind him.

He walked over to his car and saw that one of the tires had been shot through by a stray bullet. He swore to himself and opened the trunk with his keys; an assortment of office stationary spilled out onto the road. His boxes had been tossed around all over the place, spilling their contents and burying what he wanted. He dug through the piles of stationary to find a small briefcase, which he pulled out and opened. Inside was an assortment of papers and pens, but tucked into a pocket was what he was seeking most of all; a king sized Mars bar. He opened it, and put it in his mouth, tasting sweet chocolate while he closed his briefcase and threw it back into the car and closed the trunk.

He heard rustling in the trees behind him. Dennis ducked down behind the car and squinted through the darkness, taking a bite of his Mars bar and carefully wrapping it back up in the wrapper, putting it in his pocket. He could make out a moving figure wandering through the trees towards him. Dennis snuck around quietly to the front of the car, keeping his gaze fixed on the shambling figure. Slowly, the figure wandered out of the trees onto the road and Dennis could see it clearly in the moonlight. A woman, grey in the face and covered in blood not likely her own. Dennis watched carefully as she wandered around aimlessly, admiring how much they behaved like zombies. Maybe it was true. Maybe it was a zombie apocalypse, but they certainly didn't act like any zombies he'd ever seen, they still seemed human in some way.

Dennis began to back off slowly, trying to not draw attention to himself. Luckily for him the zombie had turned around; Dennis decided to start calling them zombies. Suddenly, Coleman's voice boomed over the microphone.

"Hey! Come back here Dennis, the sheriff wants to see you."

Dennis almost went to shout at him to be quiet, but held his tongue. The noise had clearly caught the zombie's attention, as she spun around and immediately ran towards town, as did another zombie that appeared out of the trees. Dennis watched as they disappeared into the thick fog, followed by sound three gunshots. Dennis began to jog slowly back towards the officer, trying not to get himself mistaken as one of them.

"Hey! I'm coming back, don't shoot," yelled Dennis as loud as possible.

As he continued his slow jog, at the last second he saw a zombie running at him from the right. Dennis, unarmed and defenceless, turned and swung his fist, connecting with the woman's head. She screamed violently and toppled over, but she was back on her feet in no time. Dennis went for a stomach blow, but he was not one for fist fighting, and he caught her in the side of the ribcage. He groaned in pain from hitting bone and the woman grabbed his jacket and pushed into him. She was too small to push him over, but she reached her neck up, rearing her disfigured and blood stained teeth, trying to bite his shoulder. Dennis shouted for help as loud as he could, hoping Coleman could hear him. Out of the corner of his eye, Dennis saw another zombie running at him, this one a larger male who could easily take him down. Dennis began to panic and grabbed the woman by the shoulders, tossing her with all his strength towards the male. She tripped and fell, taking out the legs of the huge man and leaving them both sprawled on the floor. Dennis just ran; as fast as he could go. He saw the patrol car and Coleman standing next to it, gun raised.

"Don't shoot! They're after me!"

Dennis turned and looked back and saw the two zombies getting up and running after him. Dennis just ran as fast as he could towards the patrol car, and reached down and grabbed the nightstick from the ground. Coleman fired his last two shots, hitting both zombies square in the upper torso, killing them instantly. Coleman immediately went to reload his weapon, glancing over to Dennis, he asked,

"Are you alright? What were you doing over there?"

Dennis tried to catch his breath, "Getting some stuff out of my car, and I found some shotgun shells in the other guy's pickup"

"Well, go grab his shotgun, we could use another weapon"

Dennis nodded in agreement and walked over to the man's bloodied corpse. He cringed at the man's frozen face of pain and horror, his body covered in his own blood. Dennis reached inside the man's pockets and found his wallet. As he went through it, he saw a picture of an old couple, probably his parents; surprisingly, there wasn't any picture of anyone who might be his wife or kids. He looked down at the man's hands, one of which was missing a few fingers, bitten off in the attack, but he couldn't see a wedding ring. He pulled out his driver's licence and looked at it for a while.

"Franks, Robert," he muttered quietly, "I'm so sorry Robert."

He put the licence back in the wallet and placed the wallet on the man's chest. He picked up the shotgun and examined it carefully. The old shotgun had fallen far enough away to avoid getting covered in blood, but it seemed to be really old. Dennis hoped it would take the shells he had found. He walked back over to the officer who was collecting bullets off the road and putting them back in the box. Coleman looked up and beamed widely at the sight of the shotgun; ducking into his car and pulled out his box of shotgun shells.

"Here; let me have a look," Coleman beckoned for the shotgun eagerly.

"There you go," Dennis tossed the weapon at him, Coleman catching it professionally.

"I'll show you how to use it."

He immediately drew the handle back, realizing the gun was empty he pushed a shell into the chamber from below.

"A very impressive Remington this one," Coleman stated excitedly, "I wonder…"

After pushing another two shells into the weapon; he got a fourth shell and carefully tried to push it in, sliding it in easily.

"Sweet! 5 rounds. This my friend, is a classic shotgun"

"Bit of a fan, eh?" Dennis asked casually.

Coleman laughed, "Yeah. Bit of a farm boy slash gun nut. That's why I have this," he tapped the revolver sitting in his holster; "It's not exactly police issue."

Dennis chuckled slightly in agreement and looked towards town. He could see the glow of headlights slowly getting closer and squinted to see who it was. Coleman also turned to look, pointing it out to Dennis.

"That'll be the sheriff for you."

Slowly, the sheriff's vehicle pulled up. It wasn't much different from the other patrol car, except it had 'Sheriff' written on the side of it. Dennis could make out two officers in the front seat, and as the vehicle pulled up right next to Coleman's car they both got out, guns draw. Dennis realized they could see his Beretta in his belt.

"Put the weapon on the ground," barked the sheriff.

The sheriff was a well built man standing at least 6 feet tall, his brown uniform showing he was quite fit and his hat hiding his hair away. He also had a revolver, same as Coleman. The other was a woman, a little bit shorter than the sheriff, and armed with standard police issue shotgun, her long black hair, tied back in a ponytail, was blowing gently in the breeze.

"I said drop it!"

Coleman stepped in, "Hey! He's ok, just ease up a bit."

Coleman reached over and took Dennis' empty weapon from his belt and drew the slide out in front of the Sheriff.

"It's empty."

Coleman gave the weapon back to Dennis who decided to put it in his jacket pocket. The sheriff relaxed a little and holstered his weapon, the woman, however, continued to keep her shotgun aimed. The sheriff walked over and grabbed Dennis, throwing him against the side of the car. Dennis huffed in surprise and pain as the sheriff handcuffed his hands behind his back and pulled him off the car.

"I need you to come down to the station. Tim!" Coleman stood more or less at attention, "Hold your post here and try to follow orders next time."

"Yes, sheriff."

The sheriff dragged Dennis to his patrol car and opened the back door. He didn't shove Dennis in; he just held it open and waited for Dennis to get in himself. Dennis was surprised at the sheriff's sudden pleasantness, and shuffled himself into the back seat. Most of his previous encounters with the back of police cars involved getting shoved in head first or even smacked in the head on the door frame. The door shut gently behind him and Dennis watched the sheriff walk over and talk to the young officer. Their words were only a muffle from inside the car, but the woman got into the passenger seat and put the shotgun on the hangers on the metal grill separating the front seat from the back. Dennis went to introduce himself, but decided not too when the woman turned to glare at him. Her piercing blue eyes gave Dennis chills.

After a quick chat with Officer Coleman, the sheriff walked back over and got into the car. He turned to face Dennis and spoke quietly.

"I'm Sheriff Michael Kingston and this is my wife, Deputy Kate Kingston. I'm really sorry about this my good man, but I'm going to have to take you to the station for some questioning." He turned back and started the car, the engine roaring into life. "Do you have much of an idea of what's going on?"

Dennis shook his head and then realized that he wouldn't have seen it.

"No, sorry. Only what I've had to deal with in the last hour."

The sheriff caught sight of his wife glaring at her husband.

"Not now Katie. We'll talk about this later."

With that, he put the car into reverse and did a sharp U-turn. As they cruised through the town, Dennis just lay back and relaxed, grateful for the opportunity to rest. He lay sideways on the seat, trying to get comfortable with his hands handcuffed behind his back. Eventually he managed to get comfortable with his head resting on the side of the door. As he lay, he looked down and noticed his white shirt was covered in blood from where the zombie grabbed him.

"Fuck!"

Kate turned to look at him sharply while the sheriff looked up at his rear mirror to see what was going on. Dennis realized that she was glaring at him again.

"My shirt is ruined!" Dennis cried angrily.

She smirked slightly and turned her attention back to outside. Dennis sat in the back grumbling quietly, still fuming about his ruined shirt.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Man from Riverside - Chapter 4**

It was a short drive to the police station. Dennis would have liked to stay in the car for a while; it was warm and definitely more comfortable than a cell cot. The sheriff pulled the car alongside the curb and turned the engine off. Both officers got out of the car, Kate grabbing the shotgun before she did. Sheriff Michael opened the car door for Dennis who shuffled out, hands still handcuffed tightly behind his back.

"Just head up that way," said Michael, motioning towards the front of the station.

Nodding, Dennis began to trudge up to the police station, Kate following right behind him shotgun in hand; it was making Dennis a little nervous. The police station actually looked very decent and well maintained. It had nice gardens out the front and was quite well lit, even in the fog. The pleasantness continued inside as well, Dennis though this was the nicest police station he'd ever seen. As they entered, a male officer sat behind the desk stood to attention as if he'd been caught slacking off. The sheriff smiled and said to him,

"It's ok Ben, we're not charging this guy, just want to interview him."

"Ok, sir."

Dennis was shown the way down several halls, which he quickly lost track of. Eventually, they came to an interview room and Michael opened the door and showed Dennis in, before Kate cut in.

"Can I speak to you a moment, please?"

Her husband looked at her a moment, slightly frustrated, then turned to talk to Dennis.

"Just sit down, uh, Dennis was it?"

"Yes, Dennis"

"Great, I'll be right back," Michael said as he closed the door behind him.

Dennis sat in the interview room and looked around. There wasn't much to see; a white room, table fixed to the floor, even his chair was riveted in place too and there was a big mirror on one side, obviously a one-way mirror. He could now hear indistinct shouting from outside, but only one voice and it sounded female. Dennis waited patiently for what felt like half an hour, before Michael finally entered the room.

"Sorry about that."

Dennis smirked.

"It's ok, it's quite cosy in here compared to outside"

"Yeah, sure is."

With that the sheriff sat down in the chair opposite and took off his hat, revealing his short brown hair. He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. It read 11:36.

"So what were you doing driving to Riverside at this time of the night?"

"Work," Dennis replied sharply.

"And what would that be then?"

"Office supplies. I was on my way up-state when I ran into a CEDA checkpoint, so I came this way to avoid it."

Michael sighed again and looked at the clock.

"Well, do you know what's been going on?"

Dennis was a bit confused by his question.

"What?"

"The, well I dunno, the virus going around?"

"Is that what they're calling it?"

"Don't know," Michael shrugged "They're not talking anymore. Most of the radio and television stations are offline and we have no idea what's going on. Quite frankly, I'm assuming the worst and acting on it."

"And what's the worst?"

"That there's nobody left alive out there."

Both men fell silent for a moment, neither wanting to say what they really thought. Eventually, Dennis broke the silence.

"So what about me then?"

"You tell me," said Michael casually, leaning back in his chair, waiting for Dennis' response. Dennis pondered this for a moment.

"Well, I'm clearly not 'infected' so let me go."

Michael leant forward in his chair again, head on hands thinking. Dennis was becoming a little uncomfortable about the whole thing.

"The thing is Dennis," he paused for a moment, reconsidering what he was about to say. "This isn't a very big town. I have my wife and about half a dozen other officers to keep this town secure. I got some guys working on barricades while my officers try to keep those things out. To be honest, Coleman should have shot you on sight, but I couldn't have expected more from a rookie."

Dennis relaxed a little, he liked where this was going if it meant staying in town. Michael continued,

"Coleman told me what happened, and I will admit I'm thankful you were there. So, how about you hang around town? I need more able bodies and you seem pretty able."

"And what do I get?"

"You get to stay, get looked after and in exchange, you help me out. I might be able to fix you up with some more ammo for your weapon there," he said, nodding towards the gun still in Dennis' pocket.

Dennis thought the deal over for a while, eventually coming to the conclusion that he really didn't have much of a better choice.

"Ok then, sounds good to me."

No sooner had Dennis finished speaking, there was a massive thud behind the mirror, which shook a little. Sheriff Michael closed his eyes in frustration, taking a deep breath, as if waiting for something to hit him at any moment. That something was his fuming wife.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She screamed before the door could even slam into the wall as it flung open.

"Kate, I…" but he could hardly get a word in before she continued her enraged screaming. Dennis was a little shocked at the sudden outburst.

"How can you do this? You don't even fucking know him and you're going to let him stay? And better yet, you're going to _arm_ him?"

"Kate!" Michael yelled much louder than either Dennis or Kate expected. Kate immediately stopped yelling, allowing Michael to start.

"I'm trying to handle the situation as best I can, ok? This town is too bloody big and I need more able bodies! I'll be responsible for him, but for now, I need the extra help. You're just going to have to deal with it."

"Fine," Kate snarled before turning to Dennis, leaning over the table and growling quietly at him, "You so fucking much as set one foot wrong and I'll fucking drop you. Got that?"

Still shocked from the whole outburst, it took Dennis a moment to find his voice.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

With that, Kate stormed off, leaving an exhausted Michael covering his face with his hands, breathing yet another large sigh.

"It's been a long fucking day."

Dennis forced a small smile, remaining quiet lest he face the sheriff's recently witnessed wrath. Michael stood up very suddenly, grabbing his hat and placing it neatly on his head.

"Come on then, I suppose you need some rest if you've been driving all day."

"Hell yes. You have no idea."

Dennis stood up and walked over to Michael.

"Mind taking these off?"

"Sure," Michael smirked, "Just let me grab the key."

After a moment, Dennis and the sheriff were walking through the station again, Dennis no longer in cuffs. Michael stopped at a keypad locked door and punched in a code, opening the door with a mechanical click. He pushed the door open and stepped in, Dennis following right behind. Dennis was immediately stunned at the sight before him. Racks and racks of weapons and ammunition, including a range of shotguns and automatic rifles. Without looking, Michael somehow knew that Dennis was shocked at the immense stock of weapons such a small station had.

"Yeah, we're pretty well stocked here thanks to the AHR Program. We were one of the lucky towns to be included in the program, not that anyone here except us knows about our stash."

"The AH what?" Dennis asked, still both stunned and confused.

"Anti-Hostile Repulsion Program or AHR for short. It's a government program that was initiated in the event of a war or invasion of the United States. The idea was to stock local law enforcement with a heavy array of weapons and firepower. In the event of a, I don't know, a nuclear war or if China decides to invade America. Select residents are to report here and get drafted into some sort of rebel army or whatever."

"So why don't you get them to come here? You'll have a small army to protect the town."

"Because the program isn't completed yet. Basically, we've got the weapons to supply an army, but no troops to actually supply. That part of the program isn't ready."

"Ah, I see," said Dennis, though still not completely understanding.

Michael rummaged through a large box and pulled out three clips.

"Here you go Dennis," he said, handing him the ammunition, "A few clips for you all ready to go."

Dennis took them, not exactly sure what to do with them. Michael noticed his hesitation and told him to give him his gun. Dennis complied, passing the sheriff his Beretta and a clip. Michael pushed a small switch on the side of the weapon, and the empty clip immediately fell to the floor. He raised a new clip, and pushed it sharply into the weapon, the slide immediately snapping back into its loaded position, ready to fire.

"Ok with that?" Michael asked, holding the gun out to Dennis.

Dennis nodded, taking the weapon and examining what Michael had just showed him.

"Ok then, we haven't got much in the way of beds here, so you can either take a cell cot or the staff room couch."

Dennis didn't like the idea of sleeping in a cold cell.

"I think I'll take the couch, thanks."

"Sure. Good choice if you ask me, the cells are a little cold this time of year."

Dennis was shown the staff room and the bright blue couch sitting in front of a small television.

"Help yourself to whatever you want, you won't be bothered. All my men are out on duty, but they'll be back in the morning, so try to clear out by eight. They get a little rowdy."

"Thankyou," Dennis said happily, looking eagerly at the couch.

"Ok, see you in the morning then."

With that, Michael left Dennis alone in the staff room. He was feeling exhausted and immediately lay down on the couch. Within moments, his eyes began to droop close and before long, his snoring resonated through the quiet room, only the small fridge humming quietly in return.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Man from Riverside - Chapter 5**

The garden was neat and immaculate, carefully maintained by his lovely wife. The back garden of their house was his wife's pride and joy, ever since she was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. Dennis never really understood why she took to the garden. Perhaps the doctor said it would help slow the progression, or perhaps she wanted to achieve something before she no longer could.

The midday sun glared down, it was hot and Dennis could feel his skin heating up, sweat beginning to form. He looked over at his two sons playing in the pool under the tree; they were splashing around, laughing. He tried to listen to what they were saying, but he couldn't make it out. He turned back to look at his wife; he called her name, but she didn't turn, she just continued weeding the garden. He walked over to her; it felt like every step was walking through mud. When he reached her, he placed his hand on her shoulder, but she didn't respond and she continued to weed the garden. He crouched down behind her and whispered quietly into her ear.

"I love you."

"I love you too," she said without turning.

"Do you really, sweetheart?"

She turned to face him, her face a pale white and her eyes were almost completely white. Dennis fell backwards in horror, trying to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. His wife got to her feet and stood over the terrified Dennis flailing on the ground. Her jaw was slack, her mouth wide open but there was nothing but black inside and she stood there limply, in her white and yellow overalls. She began to shuffle slowly towards Dennis, who was crawling backwards along the grass. She spoke, but in a voice that sounded like it was coming from an old radio and her mouth did not move.

"Of course I love you Dennis. I'll always love you."

With each step she took, the grass turned black around her; slowly she gained on him. The sun began to get brighter and brighter, until its glow was enveloping everything and all Dennis could see was blazing white, burning his eyes.

"Agh!"

Dennis raised his hands to block the light from his eyes. He tried to open his eyes, but the room was so bright it was hard to adjust.

"Good afternoon, sunshine."

Dennis looked to see where the voice was coming from, but all he could make out was a shape next to the window, which had been opened to reveal the blazing sun which was the source of his sudden awakening. The voice spoke again,

"Come on, you can't be that tired."

Dennis sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes. They began to adjust to the light and Dennis could make out the figure as Officer Coleman.

"Hi," Dennis groaned. "What time is it?"

Coleman looked at his watch.

"Almost half-past three in the afternoon."

"Shit!"

Dennis stood up and took a moment to stretch his aches from the couch away.

"I need a phone," Dennis said, rubbing his eyes again.

"There's one in the lobby you can use," Coleman suggested. "I can take you there if you like."

"That would be great, thanks."

Coleman walked over to the fridge and took a can of soda drink out of it. He passed it to Dennis, who took it eagerly and began to guzzle the sweet orange soda. Coleman went out the staff room door, Dennis following right behind.

"Did you sleep well?" Coleman asked.

"Kinda," said Dennis between sips of his drink.

"How did things go with the Sheriff?"

"Well," Dennis paused to try and recall last night's events. "Let's just say his wife played bad cop."

Coleman laughed at this and continued strolling through the station. They quickly came to the front desk where there were two pay phones on the far wall. Coleman stopped and turned to Dennis.

"There you go. You can make your call then I'm taking you to see the sheriff."

"Alright then, thankyou."

Dennis walked over to the pay phone and took his wallet out of his pocket. Dennis fished out a few coins and counted them, a few dollars should be enough to call home for a few minutes. He inserted the coinage and dialled his home phone, waiting patiently as it dialled. He waited and waited, until finally the there was an answer. Dennis pulled the phone away from his ear as a massive thud crackled loudly from the other side. He cautiously put the phone back to his ear and spoke to whoever was on the other end.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

The only answer Dennis got was a moaning and grunting noise. He was confused and becoming worried.

"Hello?" He said louder.

He suddenly heard a familiar scream, similar to what he heard last night. Dennis just listened to the sound; he didn't speak, just listened. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he slowly hung up the phone, his unused change dropping out of the phone, but Dennis just left it there. He walked over to a bench seat and sat down, head in hands. He wasn't trying to deny what happened, he knew that it had, but he wished he could have been there. Dennis felt a hand on his shoulder, without looking up; he held back the tears and tried to speak as casually as possible.

"Just… just give me a minute."

"Sure," Dennis recognised the voice as Coleman's.

Dennis sat there for several minutes, just trying to come to terms and bury his sadness. Just for now, he needed to compose himself. He finally stood up and wiped his face with his sleeve. Coleman was standing over by the front desk and nodded at Dennis.

"Come on, let's go," Dennis said.

With that, the two men walked out the front door into the bright autumn sun, sitting low over the horizon. Dennis followed the officer to his patrol car and the two men got in, with Dennis taking front passenger seat. Coleman turned to Dennis; he cautiously asked him if he was alright.

"I don't know right now, I think I'll be ok," Dennis muttered quietly.

Coleman started the car and the two men drove for a short while. It was much easier to see the town now that it was daylight and the fog had cleared. It was a quaint little town, but still quite sizable. There were a few people around, collecting groceries among other things. They drove to the opposite side of town where there was an old church opposite a gas station. It looked really old, and some men seemed to be doing some renovations to the front. Coleman pulled up the car in the gas station and got out, Dennis quickly followed. The men walked into the gas station, where Sheriff Michael was eating a packet of crisps.

"There he is!" Michael said with odd delight in his voice. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I must have been absolutely exhausted from last night."

"No worries," Michael placed a large handful of crisps in his mouth. "I need your help," he said between chews.

He realized he was being rude, and offered crisps to Dennis and then Coleman while they waited for him to finish his mouthful. Both men refused.

"Well," chirped Coleman, "I'm going home for a sleep, I'll see you sheriff at about ten?"

Michael nodded. Coleman smiled and turned to Dennis.

"By the way, I've got something for you," he turned and walked off, "I'll be right back."

Dennis went over to a fridge and grabbed a carton of chocolate milk. He walked over to the counter to pay for it, but there was no attendant. Michael finally finished his mouthful of crisps.

"Don't worry about it, Wesley' gone home to be with his family, I asked him to leave the store open for me. I'll have that one and you can grab another one as a freebie."

"Alright then," Dennis said as he went back to the fridge and got another carton.

Both men opened their cartons and took a drink. Michael guzzled almost half the carton before he stopped.

"So, I've got some guys building a barricade on this side of town and I need you to keep them protected while they work."

"Why?" Dennis asked.

"The power tools make a lot of noise, and those things seem attracted to loud noises, not to mention the guys are as skittish as hell."

"No," Dennis interrupted him. "Why are you building a barricade?"

"Oh, well, most of the wanderers have been coming from this end of town, probably because that's the road to the city." Michael paused to take another quick drink. "I'm going to assume there's nothing much left of the city."

Coleman returned, carrying the shotgun that Dennis found the night before.

"You still got some shells?" Coleman asked him.

"Uhh," Dennis felt in his pocket, "Yeah, I still do."

"Great, here you go then. Have fun!" Coleman said with a smile before turning to leave the shop.

Dennis studied the shotgun, trying to remember how Coleman operated it the night before.

"Anyway," Michael interrupted, "You up for it?"

Shotgun in hand, Dennis felt very confident.

"Why not," Dennis said with a smirk. "I've got some issues to sort out with those things."

Michael grinned and took another mouthful of crisps.

"Good man."


	6. Chapter 6

**The Man from Riverside - Chapter 6**

It was beginning to get dark as Dennis and Sheriff Michael walked across from the gas station and up the road that left town. There were a few men there, standing near a large pile of scrap metal. One of them was preparing a generator, which was hooked up to numerous lights and several power tools. Michael called out to them as they approached.

"Are you guys ready?"

The men looked at each other, seemingly reluctant to answer, before one of them finally answered.

"Yeah, I suppose we are."

"Good," Michael turned to Dennis. "So I need you to look after these guys for me."

Dennis just nodded and continued with the sheriff until they were standing with the other men, who were all wearing dark blue overalls. When they saw Dennis, they began to get a fidgety.

"Are you serious?" One of them exclaimed. "One man to protect us from those things?"

"No," Michael said gruffly. "I've got two of my men on their way and they should be here in less than an hour. Just don't use any power tools until they get here. You'll almost certainly attract more attention than Dennis alone can deal with."

Still somewhat discontented, the men accepted the sheriff's authority and began to shift the pieces of scrap metal, preparing them to be welded together into a strong barricade. Michael took Dennis aside and talked quietly so the men couldn't hear them.

"If things start to get out of hand, I want you to fall back to the church up there," he pointed up the road. "We've set up a safe house with a pretty decent door on there. Thick iron, you'd need a truck to break it down. You'll be safe in there and you can contact us on the radio if you need a rescue."

"Why can't I have one of your walkie talkies?"

"Unfortunately, I've given them all out already, but the officers that are coming shortly will have radios. If you need something, ask them to radio me."

"Ok then," Dennis said nervously. "Here goes nothing."

Michael slapped him on the back.

"That's my man! You'll be fine," he said with a big grin. "I'll come back to check on you later."

With that, he turned and walked back to the gas station. Dennis turned back to the men, who were all staring at him. Dennis tried to smile and just shrugged at them. He walked up the road out of town and stood guard. It was quiet and he couldn't see any zombies, but he could tell that the fog was going to thicken again when the sun set, so it was best to remain alert. After all, he'd never been responsible for anyone's life before.

Over an hour later, the sun set and it was getting extremely dark on the road and with no streetlights or other light source, Dennis was finding it becoming increasing harder to see any decent distance. He heard an engine coming up behind him and turned to see the flashing lights of a police car. The vehicle stopped and two officers got out. The two men strolled over to Dennis, one of them was carrying a shotgun and the other had a semi-automatic machine pistol. The man with the shotgun introduced them both as they approached.

"Hey! I'm Jeff and this is Leon," he said happily and turned to Leon, patting him on the back. "We're your helping hands this fine evening!"

Leon didn't look very happy about the situation he had been placed in.

"Why are we even out here?" he snapped at Jeff. "I was quite happy patrolling the river."

"Dude! Just chill. You'll be back there soon enough, sipping beers and playing bridge," Jeff said mockingly.

Leon gave him a hard glare. "It's solitaire you jackass! I'd be playing poker if you'd fucking do something I enjoy for once you swine."

"Sure," Jeff chuckled and turned to Dennis. "We'd better get this over with so he can get back to his old lady games."

Leon took a deep breath but refused to snap back. He turned and walked over to the men who were doing their best to assemble the barricade in the dark.

"Can't we have some light?" he shouted out.

Dennis, still smiling, went and sat down on a nearby abandoned car.

"So, you two are the help I was supposed to be getting?" he asked Jeff.

"Yes, sir. Ready and able. Sheriff said we were to keep these guys safe till they get this wall up."

"Yeah, that's why I'm here. I'm the hired help."

"Ah, well; better some help than none," he looked at the shotgun in Dennis' hands and the Beretta in his belt. "How much time have you had with those guns of yours?"

Dennis looked at the sky in thought for a moment before replying.

"Almost 24 hours," he replied. "I suppose I won't be that helpful."

"That's almost 24 hours more than everyone else in this town," Jeff said with a chuckle. "This town is mostly composed of rebellious teenagers, single parents and old people. I'd like to see them even stand here on a night like this, despite the circumstances."

Dennis nodded and was about to reply before the generator behind them began to chug before finally kicking into a gentle rumble. The lights flashed bright, blinding almost everyone there. Some of the power tools were tested out to make sure they were working, it almost sounded musical.

"Finally!" Leon shouted. "Let's get on with this thing!"

Dennis and Jeff felt a disturbance deep in the forest, they both knew what they were here for and it was time to face it.

They came. It was a trickle at first, only two or three at a time, but it grew steadily. There were occasional brief respites, where the three men would grab more ammunition from the patrol car, but they never lasted long. If felt like ages, but the workers managed to get the barricade up pretty quickly; the constant attacks probably hurrying them on more than the harsh words from Leon ever could. There was another small break for the men. Dennis began reloading his shotgun while Leon went back to the car for more ammunition. Slightly puffed, Jeff turned to Dennis.

"How you holding up over there?"

A completely exhausted Dennis didn't answer. He was pretty shook up with all the fighting; they may be trying to kill him, but they still seemed very human to him. Another few zombies came out from the fog; Jeff quickly dispatching them with his shotgun.

"Hey! This ain't so bad now is it?" Jeff said with a laugh.

Suddenly, a growling sound echoed through the fog shortly followed by a ghastly scream. Before Dennis could react, something lunged at him from the fog, making a seemingly super-human leap and landing right on top of him. He was flattened into the asphalt with such force that he was momentarily stunned, only before he began to scream in pain as the creature on him began lashing at him with its brutal claws. Dennis heard Jeff shout out as he ran at the creature and slammed into it shoulder first, putting as much force into the impact as possible. The creature stumbed off Dennis, whimpering like a wild dog, while Jeff caught his balance quickly and raised his shotgun.

"What the hell are you?"

It replied with a menacing growl as it righted itself and crouched down on all fours, preparing to lunge at Jeff. Without a moment's hesitation, he fired his shotgun just as it lunged. The force of the blast flung the creature back against the rock wall, whimpering slightly before falling motionless to the ground. Jeff smiled and turned to Dennis, who was still lying in shock on the ground.

"You alright?"

He groaned in response. Dennis looked down at his chest; shirt ripped apart, bleeding lacerations all across his chest. He was going to need some medical attention before he bled to death. Jeff turned to shoot a few more zombies that were heading for the workers using the noisy power tools. Once they were gone, he turned back to the still dazed Dennis.

"Looks like that might be the last of them," he said, reaching a hand down to help Dennis up.

From out of the fog, a long rope-like thing wrapped itself around Jeff's throat. The man reached up in shock, dropping his shotgun, trying to pull the cord from around his throat, without success. With a harsh yank, it pulled back and Jeff went flying backwards, still clutching at the thing that was strangling him. Dennis watched helplessly as he was dragged away into the fog. At that moment, Leon came around the corner, carrying a box of ammunition. Upon seeing Jeff being dragged away, he dropped the entire box and pulled out his weapon.

"NO! Don't you dare take him!" Leon screamed as he ran madly into the fog.

Dennis tried to get up, but the pain was too great. Before long, he could no longer see either man, but he could still hear the sound of gunfire from Leon's weapon. He tried to drag himself back towards the nearly completed barricade, but he was in so much pain he was becoming faint from the loss of blood. His vision began to get blurry and the last thing he saw were the workers putting up the final part of the barricade, abandoning him to his fate. He could no longer hear the sound of gunfire, only the distant grinding sound of something metal being dragged along the road.

Dennis awoke with a start. It was dark and he couldn't see anything, wherever he was, it was obviously indoors, unless he was dead. He sat up and groaned in pain from his wounds on his chest.

"Well, I'm certainly not dead then," he muttered.

"Got pretty close there though, sweetie."

Dennis tried to look through the darkness, to hear where to voice came from. It was a sweet, soft voice, obviously of a younger woman. It was half enthralling and half unnerving.

"Who's that?"

"Just a girl trying to do a good turn for once. It is allowed still, right?" she asked mockingly.

Dennis felt around his chest, his shirt was gone and he could feel the bandages wrapped firmly around his body.

"You helped me? Why?"

"Well," she paused to light a cigarette, the glow from the lighter lit up her face slightly, but all he could make out was her long blonde hair. "I've been hanging around town for a bit since I saw you last night. To be honest, I thought you were quite adorable."

Dennis was slightly taken aback.

"What do you mean you saw me last night? Where were you?"

There was silence for a brief moment, Dennis waited impatiently.

"Come on now sweetie. Let's not go into the details right now,"

"Can you please stop calling me that!"

"What? Don't you like it sweetie?"

"No," Dennis snarled, getting quite impatient with the girl.

"Well, I'mma have to start calling you stupid then, 'cause you ain't being very nice to the girl who just saved your life."

Dennis felt the bandages around his waist again. He was, in fact, very grateful for her help. Dying wasn't exactly on his list of things to do today, but today's events had shaken him up a bit and he was regretting staying in Riverside. Also the fact that, apparently, he now had a stalker was not exactly comforting. Dennis took a deep breath and tried to fix the situation.

"I'm really sorry. I'm not trying to be rude; I'm just not in a good place right now," Dennis said, trying to sound thankful.

"That's ok sweetie," she said, causing Dennis to grimace. "I'm gonna look after you!"

Her chirpy, cheerful attitude did liven up the situation, much to Dennis' surprise.

"Where are we? Can you help me back to town? Please," Dennis added at the last minute.

"Well, we're in a shed near the church. You're a heavy guy, so I couldn't drag you very far and fight the zombies at the same time; I just ain't a multitasking girl."

Dennis could sense she was smiling, even in the pitch black of the shed. He grinned slightly as she continued.

"If you're up to walkin', we can try to head back into town, but that barricade they put up is frightfully strong and so we'll need to find another way around."

"Those bastards," Dennis swore loudly. "They left me to die!"

"Oh sweetie," she laughed. "That barricade won't work; they'll climb right over it if you give them good reason to. Real good climbers they are. Just think! All your hard work and effort for nothing!"

Dennis did not care for her joke.

"Alright then," he said. "We can go up to the church. There's a safe house in there and a door that opens into town."

"Ooh!" she squealed. "One of those safe houses with the pretty red doors?"

"Uhh, I don't know. Maybe," Dennis said, confused by her sudden over-excitedness over a door.

She squealed again and clapped her hands together gently. Then she suddenly realized that if she could see Dennis' face, she would see that he was confused as hell.

"Sorry," she apologized innocently. "I like red things."

"Ok then," he said slowly and sarcastically. "Can we get moving now?"

"Can do sweetie. Can you stand up?"

Dennis pulled himself to his feet, nearly bringing a nearby shelf down on top of him with his weight. It still hurt a lot to move, but it was significantly less painful than earlier.

"Do you want some pain meds sweetie?"

Dennis grimaced, not knowing wether it was the pain or that she called him 'sweetie' again. He nodded his head, but realized she couldn't see it.

"Yes please."

"Here ya go sweetie," she said, passing him a small bottle of tablets.

"What are they?"

"Pain pills. You take the whole bottle."

"What! Are you trying to kill me?"

"No silly or I woulda done that before! Just take the whole bottle and you'll feel better right away!"

"But I'll overdose," he tried to look at the bottle in the dark.

"Don't be silly! I take them like that all the time and I'm still here."

"Yeah," he muttered quietly. "And insane."

Dennis felt a sudden rush of air in front of his face and the girl huffed, annoyed that he was too far away to slap.

"Be nice! Or I'm not gonna help you anymore. Now do as you're told or I'll take my pills back."

"Fine," Dennis said grumpily as he opened the bottle and swallowed every pill in the bottle.

Surprisingly, he did feel better; almost immediately. He threw the bottle to the floor.

"Ok, I'm ready to go," he said, vibrating with eagerness from the invigorating effects of the pills.

"Good for you! Come on then sweetie,"

"So, who are you anyway?" Dennis asked.

With that, the girl kicked the door open and the shed flooded with the bright moonlight, almost blinding Dennis while his eyes adjusted. He watched her standing in the doorway with her back to him, looking out into the now fogless night. There were at least half a dozen zombies wandering around, some of whom had noticed the sudden disturbance from the shed and had begun running towards it. She stood there, axe over her shoulder and handgun in her left hand, hanging down by her side. Her long, blonde hair blowing in the crisp breeze that filled the shed, blowing about some loose items inside. She turned her head slightly and spoke back to Dennis with her cheery, childish voice.

"I'm Charlotte sweetie, and I'll be your guardian angel tonight."


	7. Chapter 7

Dennis did the best he could with his Beretta as he limped along as fast as he could, trying to keep up with Charlotte. He watched with awe as she seemed to twirl in her long brown trench coat that went all the way down to her knees, all the while her long blonde hair flowing in the wind. She fired her handgun as she twirled, almost never missing but occasionally having to put more than one bullet in a zombie if it didn't go down. If they got too close, she used her momentum to swing her axe wide, slicing off heads and limbs. Somehow she managed avoid getting too much blood on her, surprisingly, because her white blouse underneath was spotless but her coat was stained and dirty from an assortment of blood and mud.

Dennis fired his last round at a zombie that appeared from around the graveyard wall. They were half-way to the church, the belltower lit up like a candle. The old wooden structure needed a new paintjob, but it looked cosy enough. He reloaded his gun and began shooting at zombies that appeared behind the church.

"We're nearly there!" Dennis shouted.

"Just keep moving sweetie," Charlotte said as she stopped twirling.

She reached for her belt and pulled out a long metal object. She pushed a button and turned the top of the device and it suddenly started beeping and the cord on top started flashing red. She threw it as far as she could ahead of them, the beeping was loud and, to Dennis' surprise, the zombies left Charlotte and Dennis alone and chased the object.

"Quickly!" Charlotte said quietly.

Before long, there were nearly a dozen zombies around the beeping device. Suddenly, the beeping quickened and the entire group of zombies exploded into a cloud of gore and dust. Dennis felt like he was going to vomit, but Charlotte grabbed his hand and pulled him onwards towards the church. He noticed that there were nearly no zombies around now, only one or two that he could see inside the church. So much for this being a safehouse, Dennis thought. Charlotte continued to pull him to the back door and slammed into it with her shoulder, flinging it wide open. She put her axe inside her coat and raised her handgun. They were in a small side room of the church, where the pastors would go before and after service. A zombie ran at them from the main hall, but Charlotte shot it straight through the head. Still holding his hand, Charlotte hurried into the main hall where the pews had all been shoved aside to leave as much empty space as possible. There were three more zombies in here that had noticed them walk in. Dennis fired at one, but the returning pain put his aim off and the bullet hit the wall.

"Just leave this to me, sweetie," she said softly as she aimed and fired three successive rounds, all hitting their marks.

The red safedoor was wide open and Charlotte dragged Dennis inside so fast he nearly tripped.

"Slow down!" he complained, the pain growing worse.

She ignored him and shoved him into the room. He tripped over and landed hard into the old wooden floorboards. Charlotte turned and slammed the large metal door shut and placed the bar across so it was secure. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned around, leaning against the door. Dennis picked himself up off the floor and checked to see if he had any splinters in his arms.

"Did you have to throw me?"

"No," she said with a smile.

Dennis paused and stared at her, expecting her to say more, but she just stared and smiled back. It was quiet all of a sudden with just the two of them alone in the barricaded front of the church. Dennis remained seated on the floor while Charlotte just leaned against the door. There was an awkward silence that someone needed to break.

"So…" Dennis said casually. Charlotte just remained quiet, smiling at Dennis which made him uncomfortable. "Why are you helping me?"

"Don't you want me to, sweetie?" She said cheekily which made Dennis cringe.

"No! It's not like that, I just…uh…" he trailed off.

"Don't question a good thing," she said more sternly.

Dennis fell silent after that. He got up and started looking around the room. This was the church entrance and the front door had been boarded up tightly. The room was littered with boxes of food and ammunition, but he couldn't see the radio that the sheriff had mentioned. Charlotte started rummaging through the box of food until she found a chocolate bar. She squealed in joy as she unwrapped it, eagerly taking several bites until her mouth was stuffed full, cheeks bulging and chocolate all over her lips. Dennis noticed a cord hanging from a panel in the ceiling and gave it a tug. He jumped aside as the panel opened and a ladder fell down where he had been standing. Climbing up, the ladder ascended the church's bell tower which had been converted into another room. There was no bell anymore, replaced with an electronic system as most churches had these days. This room was much tidier, but sitting on a table in the corner was the radio Dennis had been looking for. He picked up the receiver and switched it on. The radio blared with the voice of someone screaming:

_"__... hold them off! They're everywhere and there's something else! There are different ones, bigger, and it just threw Simon like he was a god-damned toy!"_

The sheriff's voice followed almost immediately.

_"__Fall back to next checkpoint! We'll send you backup, they'll wait for you there."_

_"__Roger that sir, we're driving back now, but they're chasing after us. We'll try to lose them on the…shit! Look out Mark, it's that big fucker again! Wait, what is he doing? OH SHI…"_

The radio went to static.

_"__Wes? Come in Wes. Mark? Is anyone there?"_ The sheriff's voice sounded quaky.

Dennis waited a moment as the sheriff continued to try and hail them, without reply. Eventually, the radio went quiet for several minute before the sheriff spoke again, much quieter.

_"__All units, fall back to the designated safe houses immediately. If anyone can hear this, you need to make your way to one of the safe houses or the police station. Safe houses are located at the church and the warehouse on Stennis Street."_

"Come in Sherriff, it's Dennis."

_"__Dennis! Where are you?"_

"I'm at the church."

_"__What happened? The workers came back without you and wouldn't say a word."_

Dennis remembered how they had just left him to die.

"We got hit pretty hard. I don't know what happened to Leon and Jeff."

The sheriff was silent for a moment.

_"__At least the barricade is up and we won't get swarmed from that side of town… for now."_

"What do you want me to do?"

_"__You need to get back to the station. We need all the help we can get to hold them off. Is it just you by yourself?"_

He thought about how he would explain Charlotte to the sheriff. He could hear her below, rummaging through the boxes. There was no doubt that she could hear their conversation from down there, so he decided to divulge as little as possible.

"No, there's someone here who helped me."

The rummaging downstairs stopped.

_"__Who?"_ The sheriff sounded sceptical.

"I don't really know her name."

_"__Her?" _There was a pause. _"Can you get here?"_

"I think so, but we might have to walk."

_"__Alright then, we'll see you soon. Good luck to you."_

Dennis put the receiver down and switched off the radio. He looked out the window down at the street. The power was still on, but the gas station was in darkness. He saw the police car still sitting where Leon and Jeff had left it. Perhaps the keys were still inside? In any case, he would need Charlotte's help as he was in no condition to put up a decent fight. Dennis was still shirtless and he felt the bandages covering his torso. He wasn't incredibly fit, but the tight bandages compressed his stomach and made him look athletic. Some of the bandages were stained red from deeper lacerations that hadn't stopped bleeding yet, not helped by his continued movement. He flinched in pain when he ran his hand over them. A breeze floated through the room and Dennis felt cold. He looked around and found a winter jacket lying in the corner, which he promptly put on. By this time, Charlotte had climbed the ladder and Dennis noticed her trenchcoat pockets were newly bulging. She pouted when she saw him in the coat.

"Can you help me up the road to the police station? We can get help there."

Dennis was surprised by Charlotte's suddenly sombre demeanour.

"Why? They're all going to die anyway."

He didn't really know how to respond. He hated how she always managed to throw him off.

"We at least need to try and help them. We can't just leave them to…"

"No," Charlotte interrupted, her voice going cold. "_You_ want to help them. People are more dangerous than them out there. At least they will show their bite. People like to wait and bite you when you don't expect it."

"I know that, but we can at least try and do the right thing." Dennis argued.

Charlotte smiled and immediately returned to her overly sweet demeanour.

"Ok sweetie," Charlotte pulled out her axe from her belt. "If that's what you want, we better get going."

She opened the window that led out to the street and started climbing out. She stopped half way and turned to Dennis, her cold glare sending shivers down his spine.

"Don't leave me, sweetie."


	8. Chapter 8

The pair didn't spend much time together on the way to the police station. The street had rows of houses on one side and shops on the other. Charlotte would either be running ahead to kill a zombie that had strayed onto the street from someone's back yard or rummaging through a building. Dennis began to wonder how many of these houses had 'normal' people in them. He imagined a door swinging open at any moment and a flood of zombies would sweep over them in an instant. The painkillers were starting to wear off and the stinging in his chest was worsening. It made walking uncomfortable, but not difficult. While Charlotte used her axe, Dennis would shoot any that she didn't notice or that came out of building while she was ahead. He was impressed with his accuracy, with nearly every shot hitting. He had put a little time at the range when he was young, but he never even got close to how good he was now.

Dennis jumped when Charlotte appeared, walking next to him. He had thought she was ahead of him, but he must have passed her while she was looting a shop. With her bloodied axe in one had, resting on her shoulder, she was drinking from a juice box with a straw in her other. She turned to him and offered him some, but Dennis waved it away. She shrugged and continued drinking until there was the familiar slurping sound of an empty box. Dropping the empty juice box on the road, they continued together for a few minutes before Dennis finally broke the silence.

"So…" he started awkwardly. "Why are you here in Riverside?"

"I'm just passing through on my way to the city, sweetie." She gave Dennis the biggest smile he had ever seen. "I'm glad I did," she said, grabbing his arm and holding him close.

He wasn't sure what was going on, but he let her continue to hold his arm as they walked. She held him until they reached the end of the street, and the police station was visible around the corner. They could see over a dozen zombies surrounding the station, banging on doors and windows. A team of three well-armed cops were patrolling around the station, killing any zombie they could see. They were all using military automatic rifles and appeared very proficient with them; firing in short, controlled bursts. A few zombies that were still approaching the station had their heads explode in a shower of blood and brain from sniper fire. Dennis could see two people on the roof with rifles, picking off any zombies that they could see. When the station was mostly clear of zombies, Dennis and Charlotte began to approach the station. Charlotte was walking right behind Dennis, as if hiding behind him. She was only a few inches shorter than him, and he could feel her breath on the back of his neck. Dennis saw one of the snipers aim at them, watching through the scope for a moment before standing and waving to them. Reassured, the pair approached the police station with more haste, walking right up to the front door. As they took the steps up to the entrance, Dennis felt Charlotte grab his sleeve and pulled him back. Pulling out her pistol, she aimed at someone standing in the doorway.

"Don't fucking move!" said Kate, the menacing figure of the sheriff's wife who had her shotgun pointed at Dennis and Charlotte.

The two women stood against each other, each had their weapon aimed at the other, both with fingers on the trigger. They stood motionless; the cop with her long black ponytail against the blonde with her free flowing hair dancing in the breeze.

"Put down the gun," snarled Kate.

"Age before beauty, hon," Charlotte retorted.

From the expression on Kate's face, she did not appreciate Charlotte's remark.

"Just give me a reason bitch and I'll drop you,"

Michael burst out of the front doors, grabbing the shotgun from his wife's hands, luckily not setting it off. Kate's surprise quickly turned to rage.

"What the hell are you doing Kate?" the sheriff looked at his wife with disbelief

"She's being a rude bitch. That's what she's doing," Charlotte said, lowering her handgun, but not holstering it.

"Shut up you little…" Kate screamed.

"Enough!" the sheriff's booming voice echoed in the darkness. "Kate, we spoke about this. You can't keep doing this to every stranger we meet."

"How can you trust them Michael?" Kate's voice began to quiver. "They could turn at any time and it will be the end for us! Look!" she said, pointing at Dennis. "He's been injured, how do we know they're not infected?"

"Neither of us has been bitten," Dennis said, but he was ignored.

"That doesn't mean you can just shoot them Kate!"

"And you can't let in every stray person that turns up!" Kate attempted to remove her pistol from her holster, but Michael grabbed her arm.

"That's enough Kate! I'm in charge and I'll decide who stays and who goes. Got that?"

Kate glared at him, her eyes full of fury. She glanced at both Dennis and Charlotte, before turning back to her husband.

"Yes... sheriff," she said coldly, before storming back inside.

"You'd better come inside," said Sheriff Michael as he ran a hand over his face in exhaustion.

Charlotte put her handgun and grabbed Dennis's hand, pulling him inside. She gave Michael a smile as they passed each other. Michael returned a forced smile before following behind them.

Dennis didn't see Kate or Michael again that night. It was three in the morning by the time Dennis fell asleep on the staffroom couch once again. Charlotte had disappeared, so Dennis was alone in the staff room. Sleep was difficult because his wounds still ached, but they were significantly better than earlier in the night. He slept soundly, exhausted from the night's efforts. He thought about his family, and wondering if they were even alive. He had resigned himself to believing they were dead; or worse. He tried not to think about them and all the possible ways they could have escaped alive, he felt it only gave false hope.

Dennis was awoken by a familiar voice. Officer Coleman was standing over him, only much more dishevelled than last time they met. His hair was scruffy and his uniform was covered and dirt and dried blood. He was carrying an assault rifle, like the ones he had seen the patrol using the night before.

"Hey Tim," Dennis said wearily.

"Time to get up. The sheriff wants to see you," Officer Coleman said, his voice cold and emotionless. He had lost all the pleasantness from the night before.

"Sure. Where is he?"

"In the garage, follow me."

It was just after three in the afternoon as Officer Coleman led Dennis through the offices and out a back door to an undercover garage. There were two armoured vans for SWAT teams parked there, as well as a dozen officers in full SWAT gear. Alongside them were half a dozen local police as well as the sheriff and his wife, who glared at Dennis as he walked in. There was no sign of Charlotte. Michael watched as the two entered and waited for them to find a place in the line-up.

"Where's the other girl?" he asked.

Tim piped up before Dennis could. "I don't know sheriff; I couldn't find her anywhere in the station."

Kate sniggered, for which she received a harsh glare from her husband.

"Doesn't matter, we'll get started," Sheriff Michael walked out in front of everyone and cleared his throat. "Afternoon everyone. I'm sure everyone is quite aware of what's going on by now, especially these men and women from the city who have come down to help reinforce our position. Word is that the city is overrun and all local and military units have been pulled out. That means Riverside is going to bear the brunt of anything that makes it's way out of the city, survivors and infected alike. Unfortunately, we weren't able to secure the perimeter before the shit hit the fan here and we lost several good men in the process. Wes, Mark, Simon, Leon and Jeff all died performing their duties in protecting this town. It's our job to make sure we follow through and don't let their efforts be in vain. Our priority tonight is to establish control of the river. As far as we can tell, those things aren't able to swim, so the river is an ideal escape route out of the area if we need. I've been in contact with a couple of guys who are anchored out on the river. They're willing to let us use their boats if we secure a place to dock and the only suitable place is the Patterson's boathouse on the west side of town. The last we heard, the area is overrun, so we're going to need to be on our guard. Sergeant Felix will be in charge of the operation and he'll give you some instructions now."

One of the SWAT officers stepped forward and stood next to the sheriff. His face was still obscured by his fall face helmet.

"There's not much to tell you," he said in a deep, surly voice. "You shoot them and they die. None of that headshot only bullshit from the movies. They aren't zombies, they're people infected with a particularly nasty virus. They don't mind a bit of pain either and glancing shots will only piss them off. Headshots will drop them, but a few shots in the torso will do the trick as well. We are aware that some of the infected are becoming mutated, but we don't know much. Stick together and watch each other's back," he turned to the Sheriff. "I think that's pretty much it."

"Alright then!" the sheriff boomed. "Carpool up and we'll head out."

The SWAT teams loaded up in their own vans, leaving the rest of the police force to share between three patrol cars. Dennis squeezed in the back seat with two other officers who he didn't know. Sheriff Michael left the garage first, his wife riding with him with her shotgun pointing out the window. The two SWAT vans followed and then the last two patrol cars. The late afternoon sun was blinding and Dennis had to shield his eyes from the glare. The two cops in the front had sunglasses and the sun visors down, so they weren't too bothered. It wasn't long before Dennis heard the first shot. It was unmistakably a shotgun; most likely Kate's. He looked out the window to try and see what was happening ahead, but the sheer size of the SWAT vans made it impossible. Kate continued to pick off some of the infected along the street; those that she missed were gunned down by the automatic fire from the vans. It was clear that most of the town had been infected. There seemed to be infected everywhere, shambling around. The town was clearly not heavily populated, but there were little pockets of infected hiding away, down alleys and even some on the rooftops. It took about fifteen minutes for the convoy to reach a secluded parking area at the edge of the forest. All the vehicles pulled up and as soon as the vans stopped, the doors swung open and half a dozen SWAT officers piled out, guns aimed ready to fire. They picked off a few infected that had noticed their arrival and the area was quickly secured. Everyone left their vehicles, and gathered in the centre of the parking area.

"We're going to head up there," Michael said, pointing at a small path that went over the hill. "The forest gets dense fast, so keep an eye out."

With the SWAT officers forming a perimeter around everyone else, the group moved up the path. The path was narrow in several places, which forced the group to spread out further. There were few infected along the path. One of the cops made a dim-witted comment that it was 'too quiet'. It wasn't until the beach house came into sight that the metaphorical shit hit the fan. The house was just visible through the trees. The tree however, seemed to be moving. Before anyone had a chance to warn them, an infected appeared from behind a nearby boulder. This one was different; it was big and fat and made belching noises. One of the cops fired his weapon at it, just as a SWAT officer tried to stop him. With an almighty pop like an overinflated balloon, the infected exploded, showering green slime in all directions. The slime completely covered the cop and splashed several of the SWAT officers standing nearby.

"What the fuck is this stuff?" the cop exclaimed, trying to wipe the sticky ooze from his face.

Suddenly, the forest started screaming. What was movement in the forest before, was now an audible surge.

"Defensive positions!" Sergeant Felix shouted. "They're attracted to the slime!"

And they were. Infected began to surge out of the forest towards them from all directions. Everyone open fired with excellent proficiency, but it wasn't enough. For every one they killed, another two took its place. Eventually the tide of infected reached them and everything fell apart from there. Everyone became scattered, forced apart by the tide of infected trying to reach those who had been covered in the slime. The SWAT officers had managed to wipe off most of the slime by now, but Dennis watched helplessly as the cop who had been completely covered in the stuff was mobbed by the infected. Then, just as quickly as they had come, the tide of infected ceased. The last few infected that were mobbing the cop were shot by the sheriff, leaving the cop lying motionless under the pile of corpses.

"Nathan?" Sheriff Michael called out to him. He started pulling the bodies away to try and get to him.

Dennis looked around horrified at the sheer number of bodies. Most of the ground around them was covered in blood, but the worst thing was the smell. Rushing over to a nearby tree, Dennis vomited up what little food he had actually eaten in the last few days. Looking down, he realised he had vomited on someone's arm, causing him to vomit again.

Everyone watched as Michael pulled the last body away, revealing Nathan lying still, covered with blood. His face was visibly contorted into one of great pain and his eyes were open and fixed. Michael checked his pulse for what seemed like minutes, perhaps hoping for a flicker of life to return. Sergeant Felix broke the silence first.

"Michael, we need to keep moving."

As if on cue, a distant howl could be heard echoing through the forest.

"Damn it Nathan," Michael muttered. "Alright, come on."

"We can't just leave him here!" one of the other cops protested.

"What are we going to do with him now Harry?" Michael asked abruptly.

"Well… we… I could…" Harry stammered.

"You're welcome to stay behind if you want, but we need to get this job done."

Harry fell silent, clearly shaken by the sight of his dead partner he began to continue walking towards the house. As everyone else also continued on, Coleman came up behind Dennis and up a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright?" he asked.

Clearing his throat, Dennis stood upright, trying to avoid looking at any of the mess again. "Not really, but lets keep going. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to."

Dennis and Coleman walked quickly to catch up to the rest of the group. Slowly, the house become more visible through the trees, it's bright lights like a beacon compared to the approaching darkness of setting sun. Another howl echoed through the forest, warning the group of their impending doom.


	9. Chapter 9

The boathouse was a small two story building overlooking the lake. The city glowed on the far side of the lake, half the city hidden behind billowing smoke from multiple raging fires. It was almost beautiful if it hadn't been a city full of death and destruction.

Securing the house didn't take long. The SWAT officers cleaned up by dragged the bodies outside and dumping them in the lake. Dennis and the rest of the cops started looking around. The powerlines to the boathouse had been knocked out, but a generator outside powered the whole house. A few cans of fuel found inside the house were enough to easily fill the tank with some left over. Coleman told Dennis the house was owned by the Patterson family. An upper-middle class family who wanted a vacation house on the lake. They never used it and, neglected for years, the house had begun to fall apart. The place was popular with drifters and the homeless. Some locals, unable to contact the owners, took it upon themselves to fix it up so it was at least inhabitable. Aside from some basic furnishings, the place was bare.

Dennis did his best to avoid Kate as much as he could. Her glare was unnerving and she did so every time she saw him. The cops kept regular patrols around the area, picking off infected as they drifted around the forest. Sergeant Felix and Sheriff Michael had been discussing fortifications and called Dennis and some of the SWAT officers together.

"We're going to send you back to the police station with one of the vans to pick up some weapons and ammo," Michael told the group. "We'll fortify this place while you're gone. Dennis, fetch Tim. He has a set of keys to the armoury."

Dennis nodded and went to find Coleman. Looking at his watch, it was just after nine. It had gotten cold outside and a light mist had begun to roll in. He found Coleman at the end of the pier and started walking up the creaky wooden structure towards him.

"Tim!" Dennis shouted, still a good distance from him. "We're making a trip back to the station to pick up some guns. Michael said you had the keys?"

Deputy Coleman didn't answer; he just stood and watched the horizon. Dennis caught up and stood next to him, looking at the burning city in the distance, slowing disappearing behind the approaching fog. Coleman was lost in thought and Dennis was unsure what to say. After a few silent minutes, Coleman finally spoke up.

"It's amazing how quickly everything goes to shit, isn't it Dennis?"

Dennis hesitated, a little taken aback by the question. Coleman turned to look at him, his eyes looked sad.

"You know we're all going to die right?" Coleman said with no emotion in his voice.

"There… there's always that chance," Dennis stuttered, unsure what to say. "We have to at least try, right?"

Coleman turned back to look over the lake.

"I suppose," he whispered. Then suddenly, with a burst of energy that surprised Dennis, Coleman snapped out of his daze. "Alright then! Let's get going," he said as he started striding back down the pier.

Dennis quickly followed behind him, struggling to keep up with the tall man's pace.

The drive back to the station was mostly uneventful. A SWAT officer drove the van while Deputy Coleman rode shotgun and Dennis rode in the back with another SWAT. Dennis couldn't see what was going on outside the windowless van, but Coleman would fire his assault rifle periodically. Not being able to see outside made the ride seem long, also because they kept their speed low to avoid the debris on the road. He started chatting to his partner in the back.

"So… you came from the city?" he asked cautiously.

Much to his surprise, a soft female voice answered back.

"I was based in the city, yes."

"What happened up there?"

"Shit happened."

Dennis was a little unsure what to say next. "So where were you when this started?"

"I was posted at one of the first checkpoints, you know, for monitoring people who might be infected and putting them into quarantine," she paused. "Then the quarantine area got overrun."

The van lurched violently, throwing both of them off their seats.

"Sorry about that!" the driver called. "There's crap all over the road."

"So," she continued, righting herself. "There were too many and we had to fall back to the next checkpoint. Then the next checkpoint fell, and the next. Then the mutant variety turned up and wiped out most of what was left."

"Shit," Dennis muttered. "So how far is this thing spread?"

She tilted her head quizzically. "You haven't heard? It's all over the north-west with a few pockets appearing in the south."

"Can't we just go to the nearest city that isn't infected? I heard they quarantined Manhattan Island."

"You have to be shitting me."

Dennis gave her mixed look of confusion and anger.

"There are no cities left," she said coolly.

They spent the rest of the trip in silence. Dennis felt a wave of exhaustion, as if he realised that perhaps Coleman had been right. Was there no hope left for them?

They finally arrived at the police station and they drove the van into the garage. Coleman opened the rear doors for them, beaming widely. Dennis figured he was putting it on, but he was happy to see a smiling face.

"Come along you two. I've got something awesome to show you," Coleman said cheerily.

All four of them were walking through the police station, following Coleman to the armoury. They were led to an innocent looking door, which needed to be unlocked. Behind the door was a small room not much bigger than a closet, with a much tougher looking door on the far side. Putting the key in the lock, Coleman turned to the others.

"Prepare for movie magic," he said with a smile.

He pushed the door open and the room beyond was indeed a sight out of a movie. The room was lined with rack after rack of weapons and boxes of ammunition. There were enough weapons to supply a small army, but Dennis supposed that was the point. The four of them entered the room and began looking over each rack, marvelling at its contents. Dennis didn't really know his weapons that well, but he could pick out most of them from movies he had seen. There were military grade sniper rifles, assault rifles, shotguns and grenades. The most amazing sight was the three miniguns mounted at the back of the room; Coleman caught Dennis admiring them.

"They're sweet as aren't they?"

"Holy shit," Dennis exclaimed. "How did you get these?"

"Ex-military gear," Coleman stated. "These used to be mounted on armoured vehicles, but when those vehicles get decommissioned, they strip it of all military hardware and sell them as civilian vehicles. These came off a couple of troop transports if I remember correctly."

Dennis saw a small paper book sitting on a box of ammo labelled as '7.62x51mm rounds'. It was the manual for the minigun. Coleman smiled when he saw Dennis pick up the manual.

"That one is some good reading," he chuckled.

"I assume we're going to take one of these?" Dennis asked, putting the manual in his pocket.

Coleman shrugged. "I don't see why not. I've wanted to bust one of these out for a while."

The next few hours were spent loading the van with an assortment of weapons, including the minigun, which took two of them to carry. They also loaded a dozen boxes of ammunition as well as containers of food and some of the jugs of water. Dennis wiped his brow with his sleeve as he loaded the last box of food into the van.

"That's the last one," Dennis called out to Coleman who was in the front of the van with the other SWAT officer.

"Great! Go tell that gal that we're ready to head off. I think she went to the restroom," Coleman called back.

Dennis went back inside the station and looked around. It was eerily quiet with nobody here; just the hum of the fluoro lights. He was just approaching the ladies restroom when the door opened and the female swat officer appeared.

"Hey, there you are. We're ready to go."

She nodded and followed Dennis to the van where they both got in their seats in the back with the massive pile of equipment sitting next to them.

"Just don't throw the van around too much," Dennis called. "It's pretty tight back here and I don't want to get hit in the face with a grenade."

He heard a couple of chuckles from the front of the van, before they were drowned out by the van's engine roaring to life.

Dennis sat back in the seat, trying to ignore the rattling coming from the pile of potentially explosive weapons as they bounced around inside their containers. He closed his eyes, slipping into a very light sleep. It was difficult to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Every blast from Coleman's rifle, every time the van bounced over a pothole and every unsettling movement within the weapon pile snapped Dennis awake. It was beginning to give him a sore neck. He looked over at the SWAT officer sitting across from him, it was then he noticed the strands of long blonde hair hanging scattered from her helmet. He tried to observe her face through the visor, but it was dark in the van and he couldn't make it out. He felt nervous, as if she was a stranger.

"I'm Dennis by the way," he offered his hand in handshake.

He could feel her stare behind the visor as she sat motionless. She raised her finger over where her lips would have been behind the visor, giving him the signal to be quiet. Dennis tried to make himself comfortable, but between the constant disturbances and her watching over him intently, he had trouble getting any sleep. He was looking forward to finding a nice comfy place to sleep. He took a sniff of his armpit and recoiled in disgust. Perhaps a shower would be the first thing, he thought.


End file.
